


The flesh of my brother

by drcalvin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dom/sub, Incest, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drcalvin/pseuds/drcalvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>West Germany loves the thought that he owns his older brother's land now. And Prussia? He doesn't mind the situation at all. Unrepentant porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	The flesh of my brother

He knows what the looks they receive imply.

Austria only gives a discreet glance once in a while, never asks when it began. He thinks he already knows.   
Russia, whose family relations are even more odd, sometimes nods and smiles at them. As if they could ever be the same, in this or anything.   
South Italy... well, he's always glaring anyway, but sometimes his curled lips go white with worry. Especially if they gather together, all four of them. Two pairs of brothers, ever so different.

They don't ask though. And as little as Germany wants to share such intimate parts of his life, he would like to explain that one detail sometimes. Not enough to bring up the subject on his own, but if someone asked? Who knows.

Prussia moves beneath him, his breathing gone fast and shallow. His hands, calloused and strong, are clasped above his head and he's none too subtly lifting his hips. He has managed to almost wriggle out of his pants, but they have caught teasingly on his hardness. Still, Prussia is demanding more attention, needs to be touched soon.

Germany strokes him soothingly on the tense, trembling arms. Gently shushes the whining that follows and allows himself the pleasure of rubbing against his brother's barely cloth-covered cock. His own pants are still well in place, secured by a well-worn leather belt.

In the beginning, he would use his belt to tie Prussia up, but he's learned better. They have learned, together. Grown both familiar and comfortable with this game, while they also need it ever more.

No bonds, no chains except when Germany must hear them tingle, once in a while. It makes things too easy for his brother, encourages him to just lie back and let Germany worship the scarred body. When they both desire something much deeper.

When Germany brings their torsos together, he feels cool metal of the clamps biting into Prussia's nipples against his own skin. When their moans mingle into one needful sound, he knows this is much better.

How can anyone else understand? When Germany was small and confused, he hardly knew from one day to another if he was real or only a hope. Back then, Prussia was his constant. Rude and wild, always been and always will be. Brutal in his training and sparse in praise, but a stable if prickly presence at young Germany's eastern borders.

And Germany, what was he? So scattered, swept from one hand to another, a nation struggling his way out of childhood. How could that flimsy youth interest an old warrior? Especially one who never seemed to tire of the smell of blood, who delighted more than ever in the hoarse screams of his dying enemies.

Briefly, he lets his full weight rest on Prussia, enjoys the swallowed sobs of pleasure. This is what they do not speak of; how much his brother longs to feel him and how much Germany adores this unending thirst to be controlled.   
He is biting the white neck softly, moves his body and enjoys the experience of his strong brother reduced to helpless need. It is an effort to move away, he allows himself to be distracted for a moment to tease and pull at the nipple clamps. Prussia bites his lip hard and fights to remain still.

When Germany handles his brother, it is almost always with rough touches and hard grasps. So this time too. One hand he puts on Prussia's clasped hands. Feels how tense they are, how much they want to reach out and take what they need. Loves how obediently they stay where ordered.

His right hand he rests just beneath the throat (so inviting), which works furiously as his brother struggles to keep silent. Above bone and muscle, his fingers feel the flutter of a pulse, so damn needy, so fragile.

This power, this need to own, it drives him wild, it makes him forget all sense and reason... He has become so good at controlling the need that some seem to forget that he once wanted to own them all, but here, ah, here!

When his brother is bucking beneath him so sweetly and he can just take what he needs – kisses that are neither gentle nor shared, only his. Hands clenching around pale limbs so that they leave bruises for days, possessive bites and words of ownership.

Just for a moment. Oh don't go too far, not yet, the hand around his brother's neck clenches too tight. He must release him again or he won't be able to let go at all.

"Spread your arms beside you," he says. "Quickly, now."

A frustrated groan answers him, but his dear brother obeys. He licks at the clamped nipples as a reward, giving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over the heaving chest while letting his hands wander downwards.

His brother has the most wonderful stomach, smooth and hard. It invites to stroking and petting, certainly, but also asks to be tested and abused. Prussia wears the marks of many strife-filled years here, especially fascinating is to him the spidery scar from when Germany himself dissolved his brother's nation. The muscles tremble, but stays taut beneath him, even when he rests his full weight on one knuckled hand, against that very scar.

Oh, how Prussia is scrunching his eyes together, frowns and pants. How eagerly he spreads his legs, even as his breaths come in short, shallow gasps.

No, it was never like that when they were young. Cruel as he is to his enemies, to those he has taken under his wings Prussia has his own sense of kindness. As far as the older brother was concerned, Germany remained a child to protect. And so he saw him, for years beyond what the rest of the world thought.

His hips feel so slim to the touch and Germany marvels, always and forever, at the many things Prussia hides. His body, beneath sloppy coats or stiff uniforms. The emptiness inside behind brash words and rudeness. It took them years to realize that what Germany craves, the owning and the bending – but not the breaking, no more, he lost his taste for that – he can indulge in with his brother.

Who in turn desires someone, anyone, to force him down, pressure him and drive him beyond that which he can endure... then, to hold him gently and to remain close. As his kings once pressed his armies, forging Prussia into a disciplined mechanism of death.

It is lonely at the top, yes. But that is nothing compared to the chasm that opens around the one who had almost everything, had most certainly fought everyone, and then became outcast and abandoned.

Slowly, he's working the pants downwards, until they reach Prussia's knees. He'll leave them there for now, trapping those muscular legs a little but allowing him perfect access to the needful cock. That too, belongs to him. It all does, all that his strong brother used to be, and here, between them, Germany can finally rejoice.

He breathes at his brother's sex, he let's his gloved left hand tickle and tease. So beautiful. He likes the contrast offered by the muffled touch through the glove and the more direct contact from his bare hand.

His brother, now, his brother worships the gloves and the polished boots, so much that Germany once asked if he ought to be jealous.

"But they define you so well!" Prussia said and laughed loudly, as he always does if these subjects are broached, "The more you are walled in, the stronger you grow."

The memory makes him smile wickedly, and soon Germany is pinching. At the skin around the sensitive, heavy balls; here he uses only the tips of his nails.   
Prussia wiggles and hisses in slight protest, and Germany slips closer, to breath in the smell of his brother's arousal. While, still, giving wicked little pinches. Oh bliss.

He follows up with an attack towards the inside of thighs afterwards, as hard as he can hard, with two fingers and soon his entire hand. Only when he is certain there will be a mark tomorrow does he stop, examines his handiwork and then continues with the other leg.

Now, Prussia tenses and tries to scoot backwards, without actually letting on that he is moving, which doesn't really achieve much except that it looks very amusing to Germany.

"None of that", he mutters and relents momentarily, taking the tip of his brother's cock in his mouth. A short yell, then Prussia falls silent again.

No words are allowed during these times. They have done it often enough that his brother has learned that Germany truly is disciplined enough to go away and leave him hanging if he breaks this rule.

Though he will never guess just how grateful Germany is that Prussia has _finally_ learned to shut up. Nor many times Germany's teeth have bitten down on a folded towel to hide disappointed howls while he brings himself off in the shower.

He sucks and licks, plays with the small opening for while and then takes in as much as he can swallow. Now and then he stops completely, to stroke himself through too-tight trousers and listen to the half-choked noises his brother makes.

He loves to rest his cheek on the spot where leg becomes body and watch the wet slickness he has left on his brother. Prussia doesn't like that very much, of course. But when his pants are finally stripped away completely and Germany's hands burrow beneath his body to clench his ass, he is that much more appreciative after the short break.

"Lift your legs," Germany says and sits back for a moment to watch, "open yourself."

He'll die if he doesn't get out of these trousers soon, he realizes, when his brother blushes deeply and then moves to comply. But to get out of the pants he must remove the boots too and that will just take too much time. Prussia is waiting, needs his touch, wants his presence so much that he can almost hear the begging. But at least... there, yes, open the belt, loosen the button, so he can slip a hand inside.

As relieving as it is to finally rub and squeeze his own aching cock for a while, Germany is soon distracted. His hands settle on Prussia's, together they bend and spread those legs just a little more than is comfortable. Oh.   
His hands are larger, Germany knows, he knows, it's been so for years... but it still creates a sharp ache in him to see how much thicker his fingers are. To know that he has outgrown his brother, in whose shadow he walked for so many years.

His brother, whose pale hair is darkened with sweat, whose mouth is open and panting. Prussia's face is unguarded right now, so beautiful and needy. Instead of the usual boisterous pride, Germany sees only love and want so strong that it called silently for him through all their tumultuous years. He didn't understand then, was too young and inexperienced.

Only after both their great losses, did Germany finally realize what he'd been hearing all his life, from whom that silent pleading came. Then Germany saw that he, despite bonds of family and ties of history, was the only one who could answer.

To tear his eyes away from that adoring face and bend between his brother's legs is so difficult. But the shudder that racks Prussia's body when Germany gently works tongue and lips over one of his balls, until he has taken it completely in his mouth, makes it all worth it. On the edge of his vision, he sees his brother's toes curl and spread frantically and Germany thinks that's just adorable.

He plays first with one, then the other, but teasingly leaves the hot cock alone. Though he can't help but stroke his cheek against it, mumbling unclear promises. When his brother's gasps begin to turn into small yelps, which experience tells him will soon be followed by begging, he moves downwards.

Drags his tongue beneath those ass cheeks, god, he loves them, he needs to feel them in his hands again, hold them firmly, and spread them open. Sometimes, he thinks that if Prussia didn't favour such bulky clothing, he would never get anything done because he'd be staring at his brother's ass all day long. At times like these, though, he wonders why the hell he shouldn't admire this sweet flesh every waking hour.

He slips further downward, until he finds that secret opening, clenched tight and washed perfectly clean. Waiting, just for him.

Now he's licking, sucking with an open mouth and if there are recognizable words hidden somewhere in that howl his brother just released, well, he's too busy to hear them anyway.

He creeps closer on his knees, and his lapping, kissing motions change as he bends Prussia's back more and more. Now Germany isn't so much licking as thrusting, gently boring into the hole with the tip of his tongue. The muscles are clenched tight, trembling from holding legs aloft and being spread apart into a feast for his hungry brother.

This is how he loves his brother; he holds him fast, he fucks him with his tongue, his right hand leaves scratches on his Prussia's white skin and he gives him everything he denies himself.

When Prussia's legs try to close around his head and he is biting back a hundred pleading words. When none of them can stand it anymore, only then does he slide his glove-clad hand closer, begins teasing the tight opening. Germany tastes the leather that covers his thumb and slowly, surely, pushes it inside the waiting hole. All the while his tongue is working around the opening, soothing and teasing at the same time.

He can be very, very patient and is reward when the tightness finally begins to relax a little, when Prussia's squirming becomes less frantic and only eager for more.

Now he wets two fingers and brings them carefully inside his brother, beginning to open him properly. But mostly he just wants to reach, to find that spot deep inside that makes Prussia lose himself completely in pleasure. While his fingers are searching, Germany moves his mouth all over his brother's ass, his sex, everywhere he can reach. He teases the edges of the widening hole, he licks the base of his cock, he nibbles on the soft flesh around the opening.

Prussia is moving beneath him now, struggling for more and deeper, but Germany manages to hold him in position with one arm, even if he has to use his shoulder for support.   
There, he feels it approaching, visible in the line of Prussia's tense legs, in the wanton noises he is making, in the way his asshole is quivering around enthusiastic fingers.

Eyes flutter close and the whole body tenses for a moment, a symphony in flesh that sings of sin and pleasure. Then Prussia comes undone beneath his brother, his mouth falls open in a silent scream while his cock jerks and pumps. Soon, his sticky pleasure drips down his own stomach, on his chest, all over himself, over Germany's dearest toy.

Meanwhile, Germany is watching, his fingers move almost mechanically as he drinks in the vision. He is keening softly and his hips jerk helplessly before this sight of his brother as beautiful as none have seen him before.

They lose their precarious balance here, but Germany manages to catch his brother before they both fall over and gently holds him close.

For several moments Prussia can't think, can't move, just exists – he floats on pleasure beneath his brother, who is however everything but calm. Once those red eyes are open and at least a little aware again, he is released to lie on the bed.

With speed born of desperation, Germany undoes his pants completely, pulls them down as much as he can. He growls something that might be "turn over" or his brother just knows him too well by now, because somehow Prussia manages to flip to his stomach. With a groan, he obeys insistent hands, rises so he comes to kneel on shaky legs in front of Germany.

But that is not quite enough for Germany, whose own need has now completely taken control. He pushes his brother, forward, down, until the sweet hole is once again turned upwards and he can taste it again. Germany licks him swiftly while teasing the softening, but still sensitive cock, and each little sound, each involuntary movement is music to his ears.

Then he glides inside of Prussia, sinks his cock into that sinfully welcoming hole. When Germany is buried deep inside, he rests his weight on his tired brother, letting the slighter man feel all of him, reminds him of who and what they are. All the while his hands search, to find the right places to grip, his knees move until he has found a good, steady position. Germany moves now, suddenly and violently - finally.

This is how his brother is loved; he fucks him when Prussia is too tired to move, he is not careful or soft, but takes and takes and takes every move, every cry, every moment of pleasure belongs to him. He is screaming, his hips slam against Prussia's ass, he pulls him closer and bruises him with love and need.

Everything his brother is and was belongs to him, Germany. All the hot flesh that surrounds his eager cock, all the weary muscles that struggle to keep up with the furious pace, all of it he possesses and uses until the moment goes white and he is blinded by pleasure.

Germany comes inside of his brother, he groans and shakes, but keeps moving until every part of him feels wrung dry.

This is how they lie, afterwards. Brother against brother, with Germany's possessive arms around Prussia's chest, where he can feel the small metal clamps still biting into sensitive flesh. Prussia is holding on to those arms and a content smile plays on his face. For a while they are at peace.

Soon, Prussia will wriggle and whine beneath his brother's bulk. Ask for his poor nipples to be freed, complain because Germany's pants are scratchy against his lower legs and hey, do you know where that glove has just been?

Then they will move apart. Even if they wash off together, even if they occasionally sleep in the same bed afterwards, it will be slightly different. Not worse, not better, but different. Like it used to be when they were younger and one was small and innocent, while the other was a grand empire.

And perhaps it is because no-one has ever seen them go from one to the other, that nobody quite grasps this that is between them.   
Closest to recognizing the true pattern is, perhaps, Italy Veneziano. He has on occasion joined them in bed to sleep. If it is because of what he felt then, or because he can not at all comprehend that which they are accused of, Germany neither knows nor cares to ask. It is enough to know that one pair of eyes do not accuse, assume, and misunderstand it all.

And Prussia? He only shrugs and laughs them all off, for his king is dead, his country but a memory, but his brother is here. And as long as they get what they need, all is right in his world.

/End


End file.
